


Recruitment

by Keldae



Series: The Family Business [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Friendship, Gen, Spy business, a very poorly thought-out plan for revenge, mention of Theron Shan/Female Jedi Knight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-17 00:57:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keldae/pseuds/Keldae
Summary: Theron's not the only person looking for revenge for what Zakuul did to the galaxy.





	Recruitment

In the last year, the Fleet cantina onboard Carrick Station had experienced a steadily-decreasing population. In times past, the place would have been filled with smugglers, mercenaries, off-duty soldiers, and Jedi passing through on Order (or personal) business; now most of those normal regulars had been killed or, in the case of the Jedi, driven into exile. Even the smugglers were fewer, with most of them having fallen to Zakuul’s harsh justice system or laying low to avoid said justice.

Theron knew the man he was looking to meet was still alive and kicking, having slipped through Zakuul’s fingers more than once already. Hopefully he wasn’t as afraid to show his face as the spy was currently dreading.

The dark-haired agent took a swallow from the bottle in front of him, the low burn of what claimed to be Corellian ale (but given how expensive such a luxury was nowadays, probably just a knock-off) lingering in the back of his throat. It was a self-medication that he’d turned to ever since the news of Darth Marr’s flagship being destroyed had reached his ears, with the confirmation of her death aboard it. Or had she been captured and taken to Zakuul for execution there? Reports conflicted. Either way, she was gone from the galaxy, her like to never be seen again, and the void in his heart that she’d left behind one that would never be filled.

The only thing that kept him from succumbing to the pain that threatened to consume him was the thought of revenge, or justice, or whatever the kriff one wanted to call it. But Theron knew not even he, in all of his grief-filled rage, could make Zakuul burn by himself for what they’d done. He needed help.

That help dropped into the booth across from him, once all cocky smiles and charismatic bravado, now hunched shoulders and dark lines under his eyes and grey showing up in his dark blond hair. Theron was willing to bet that the normally-laughing, prank-masterminding smuggler hadn’t so much as smiled since the news of his sister’s death. “You look like hell,” the newcomer quietly said by way of greeting, his voice low and rougher than Theron had grown accustomed to.

“So do you, Captain,” Theron answered the spacer, watching Korin Taerich flinch minutely. “Are you…”

“Okay?” Korin snorted bitterly. “My sister was killed by those sons of bitches from Wild Space. My little brother’s been killed by the Wrath- you know they found his mask in the wreck of what used to be his apartment? He never took that off in public, didn’t want to be identifiable without it…”

Theron nodded, remembering the surprisingly-young Darth Imperius, who looked and acted more like his older Jedi sister than any Sith would have expected. “He hated that thing, didn’t he?”

“Figures it’d be the only thing of his to…” Korin trailed off and gave the innocent table between himself and Theron a dark glare. “… And my father’s gone completely off the radar, no idea where the hell he is or if he’s even still alive an’ unless he contacts me, no way to know anythin’ about him. How the  _hell_ do you think I am?”

Theron had lost his lover. Korin had lost his sister, his brother, and possibly his father. The spy pushed over the still-unopened bottle of ale beside him. “Look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” Korin mumbled as he accepted the bottle, cracked it open with a practiced twist of his wrist, and took a long drink from it. “You still look like shit.”

“Feel like it.” The words escaped Theron’s mouth before he could reign them in. Maybe his own drink had hit him harder than he’d thought, especially considering he wasn’t eating or sleeping more than the bare minimum to survive, now that he thought about it. “Nothing’s been right since she…”

Korin’s hazel eyes widened slightly. “You an’ her were-”

“We never talked about it,” Theron said quickly, and perhaps a bit too harshly. “We- I thought there’d be time to…” The pause was painful and made Theron’s throat ache with a cry of grief he couldn’t give voice to, not here, not now. 

“The son of a bitch on that gorram shiny throne’s gonna answer for this,” Korin finally growled, eyes flashing. “Dunno how, but I’m gonna kill him myself.”

“If I don’t first,” Theron muttered, hand tightening around his ale.

“… I take left side, you take right?”

“Works for me.”

“Good.” Korin took another swig of his drink. “Now we just gotta find a way to burn Zakuul to its own damn core. Any plans?”

“Not directly, but I do have a suggestion.” Theron hadn’t contacted Korin for a social call, after all. He reached under his jacket and pulled out a datapad. “You’re damn good at your job, you know.”

“I’m still here, ain’t I?” Korin scowled at his drink. “Besides, bein’ good at what they did didn’t save Xaja or Sorand from-” His sentence ended abruptly as pain flashed through his eyes, a pain Theron felt too well, something that couldn’t be helped with meds or kolto. “… Sorry.”

Theron’s shoulders slumped under his jacket as he focused very, very intently on his datapad. In a fair fight, Xaja should have won any fight that came her way, even against Emperor Arcann. Hell, she’d fought Vitiate and won before, hadn’t she? He took a moment to regain his composure (it wouldn’t do for him to break down here, of all places, with regret and mourning for Xaja Taerich consuming him so completely), then looked back at Korin when he felt marginally more stable. “Like I was saying- you’re good. Hell, you’re almost as good as  _me_  as a slicer, and I know you can smooth-talk your way onto Dromund Kaas of all places, maybe even Zakuul. And you’re Force-sensitive enough to be dangerous in all the right ways to the right people.”

“You didn’t yank me out here to stroke my ego, Shan. What is it?”

This was borderline treason against the Republic, depending who one talked to. Theron didn’t care. He pushed the datapad over the table at Korin. “I’m offering you a job.”

“What, with the SIS?”

“No. I need an asset who’s as good as me, on the same plan as me, and not tied to the Republic.” Theron took a deep breath, knowing the hell he would catch from the Director or his father if news of this got out. He’d just been reinstated not that long ago, too… but he didn’t care. “And somebody with a healthy regard for discretion… and who wants the same thing I do.”

“Arcann’s metallic head on a platter.” Korin lifted the datapad, reading Theron’s proposed offer. “You train me into bein’ your mini-me, send me out into the dark an’ nasty areas of space you can’t get to, an’ have me report directly back to you without your bosses gettin’ wind of this?”

“Essentially, yeah. I don’t think I need to say what’ll happen to me if this gets out.”

“Half surprised that schutta in the Senate didn’t try to have you excommunicated entirely after Ziost already.”

“Who says she didn’t?”

Korin snorted mirthlessly. “Hated that woman from the minute I first landed on Taris, way the hell back when.” He set the datapad down and met Theron’s eyes head-on. “When do I start?”

Theron blinked in surprise. “What, no bickering on the salary?” It wasn’t like Theron was exactly swimming in credits despite his workaholic tendencies, but he had enough to compensate Korin modestly for this… not that he’d ever known any career criminal like Korin to be satisfied with merely ‘modest’.

“For this? Revenge on Zakuul and a middle finger to Saresh?” Korin’s eyes glittered maliciously. “I’d do this for  _free_. All I want out of this extra is a chance to kill Maglion for what he did to my brother. Bonus points if we can figure out where the kriff my father is.”

“Done. You see that opportunity, you take it. I’ll even help kill the bastard- not your father, obviously.”

“Think we got ourselves a deal then.” Korin reached across the table and shook Theron’s hand.

“Good. My place at 0800 tomorrow- coordinates are on the datapad.” For the first time since before Xaja was murdered and Zakuul invaded, Theron felt something approaching a smile on his face- that is, if the tightening of his mouth in a grim vengeance-promising expression could be called a smile. “This sounds like the start of a wonderful partnership, Captain.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good workin’ with ya again… for you? Whatever.”

“Technicalities we can bicker about later.” Theron raised a hand in farewell as Korin collected the datapad and strode out of the cantina, then turned his attention toward the bar again. Seeing his dead lover’s brother made his heart hurt again in a way that no Jedi training could banish. Besides, it wasn’t like Korin had never seen him hungover before.

* * *

_Four months later…._

“Hey, so, deal’s changed a bit. I picked up a new crewmember- but he’s gold, and knows his shit. And snoopy as hell, too.”

Theron sighed and gave Korin a dark glare that was almost obscured by the Promenade’s shadows. “Remind me why I hired you again and called you out here?”

“Because I’m damn good, that’s why, and you need all the help you can get after quittin' the SIS like that. Besides, you’ll like this guy. Best part is that nobody knows he exists.” Korin turned and waved to a tall, lanky-looking stranger in an alcove a few paces off, wearing lighter-styled Mandalorian armour and with a dark scarf wrapped around his head and face.

Something about the stride of the stranger hinted at familiarity to Theron, but he still scowled at Korin. “If you risked security for this guy, he’d better be better than  _me_  at my job, and more devoted to the cause.”

“Better than you? Hardly- well, not yet anyway.” The stranger lowered his scarf from his face, making Theron blink in shock. The accent was changed, now more Mandalorian than Imperial, and the eyes were dark brown and lined with dark bags underneath, and the hair was longer- hell, there was even a hint of scruffy facial hair. “But how does a former member of the Dark Council with a vengeance pact for his sister sound?”

Theron stared numbly at the stranger for a long minute. “… You’re dead though,” he finally said. “The Wrath-”

“-Is known for brutality and fanatical devotion to Vitiate- not necessarily toward great strategic decisions. And I had enough advance warning of his intentions from my father to be able to fake my own death and escape.” Sorand Taerich shrugged and shot a quick glance around the Promenade. “Nobody knew my real name before my ascension, and nobody would recognize Darth Imperius without the mask, especially not in Mandalorian space.”

“Your wife’s Mandalorian…” Theron breathed out as the pieces came together.

“And scary as hell when she wants to be. She got me adopted into her clan, and I don’t even think her  _alor_  was going to argue with her on that.”

“I can believe it. I’ve met Shara.” Theron frowned. “But the body they found in your apartment…”

“A particularly disrespectful Acolyte who was unlucky enough to look like me. You probably don’t want to know what Revel and I did to him before leaving him as a stand-in.”

“… No, you’re right, I really don’t.” Theron shook his head and clapped Sorand’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you alive and intact.”

“It’s good to be alive and intact to watch my children grow up.” Sorand’s eyes turned fond at the thought of his offspring. “Cuyan was born just after I escaped, and Rav’s three years old now.”

“Never would have thought a Sith could be such a doting parent, right?” Korin asked Theron with a grin. Such expressions were still rare from the spacer, but they were coming more often now. The restoration of his brother had done a great deal to heal his heart after the loss of his entire family, apparently.

Sorand rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to the uncle who’s on a set mission to spoil both my kids rotten.” He paused and looked at the durasteel plating under the three men, sorrow tangible even to Theron. “Xaja would have loved them…”

It was a perfect segway into Theron’s news. “I spoke with Lana a few days ago,” he started, watching both of Xaja’s brothers perk up attentively. “She’s been in contact with some Zakuulans whose sympathies do not lie with Arcann.” He hesitated for only a second. “Your sister might still be alive, frozen in carbonite in the Spire.”

Two sets of eyes, one hazel and one brown, widened in shock and a mirror of the same renewed hope that had invaded Theron’s heart the second Lana had told him that. And with that, the group of people in on the plans to rescue the Jedi prisoner from carbonite captivity doubled.


End file.
